


Arriving Again

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Culture Shock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hair, Libraries, Lindon (Tolkien), M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Second Age, The Valar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-07-21 04:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: Glorfindel's arrival in Middle Earth was a surprise to everyone, including him and it would have been nice if the Valar had provided a little more information.  Elrond and Erestor are fascinated with the new arrival and Glorfindel is slowly failing to cope with his new life in Lindon.Trigger warnings for: PTSD, panic attacks, poor coping skills, anxiety, bullying and destruction of property.





	1. Glorfindel wishes he had been provided with shoes and better instructions

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien’s wonderful characters or universe, I am just borrowing them to play.

Glorfindel’s arrival in Lindon was unexpected and odd for everyone, including him. He still feels his change in location may have been a little TOO abrupt. 

That morning at dawn, life had been predictable and Glorfindel was exactly where he had been since being re-embodied: dreaming away the ages in the gardens of Lorien. 

Este had awakened him just after dawn, with a clarion call of “AWAKE”. But delivered from directly over his head at volume sufficient to scare away every bird at that end of Lorien. Este had given him to Yavanna for clothing. Why Yavanna, only the Valar knew. It worried Glorfindel just a little that Yavanna had an eccentric assortment of ragged elf clothing but he thought it unwise to ask questions and simply put on what he was given. 

Yavanna in turn delivered him more or less (mostly less) clothed to Manwe. Glorfindel would have been awed at being in the presence of Manwe, but didn’t get the chance. Manwe admonished “be an honorable warrior in Middle Earth” and plopped him on the beaches of Tol Eressea next to a pair of very strange Maiar wearing blue. 

There, Glorfindel had just enough time to try and shake sand out of his tattered trousers before a great wave arose and Ulmo swept all three off across the ocean. After the first momentary fear of drowning, Glorfindel found the view interesting in a very watery way. His companions slept most of the trip. 

Just off the coast of Lindon all three were soggily deposited on Cirdan’s boat. As Ulmo had leaned over the boat in a giant wave Cirdan had gasped in horror and awe, but recovered quickly when faced with new passengers rather than imminent drowning. He cheerfully provided Glorfindel with a towel, snack, hair tie and tunic for the short trip to the harbor. As food had not been part of the day’s events so far (and he really had no idea if he had actually eaten since before being killed) he ate the hard bread and cheese with gratitude. 

Upon reaching the harbor at Mithlond, the two blue Maiar (now looking like aged Secondborn) had simply disembarked and walked away: no one dockside seems to have even noticed their presence. 

Unfortunately, without the Maiar as distractions, the harbormaster had been emotional at, as he put it, “the actual presence of one of the Reborn sent by the Valar to Middle Earth”. There was a lot of overexcited screaming.

The end result was an audience with the king without armor, proper robes or a sword. Or boots. But, Glorfindel reflected as he knelt before the High King of the Noldor in Exile Ereinion Gil-galad, at least he is finally dry.

Staring at the scruffy resurrected elf kneeling in front of him, Gil-galad felt that Arda had just gotten a little more unfair. The Valar finally decide intercede in Middle Earth again, but not with military might or protection. With a very famous, dead elf lord dressed like a peasant fisherman.

Even ignoring the philosophical implications of a previously dead (as in definitely dead: burnt by a Balrog, crushed and buried with funeral dead) elf reappearing in Middle Earth, Glorfindel’s arrival is already upsetting the careful balance of power in the city. Elbereth knows what this will do to the lines between the sets of Noldor, Sindar and Silvan factions. 

It was even more infuriating that Glorfindel will only tell them that “Manwe sent me back.” 

Balancing options from imprisonment to re-confirming titles, Gil-galad decided to see what this emissary of Manwe did with a little freedom and said, “Welcome to the Kingdom of Lindon, Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin.” There, that sounded nicely welcoming without promising anything. 

“Your Majesty, I am no longer a Lord.” Glorfindel decides not to mention that Gondolin is gone, along with that half of the continent. 

“Be that as it may, I feel that you should retain the title. We’ll arrange guest quarters and clothing.” 

“Your Majesty, do you have anything you would like me to do?” Glorfindel was staring at the smooth marble of the floor as if it was about to walk away, and sounded more embarrassed and baffled than anything. Baffled is good, now to watch him and watch where he gravitates. And possibly keep him from the more dangerous elements of court. Like Elrond. 

Gil-galad admitted to himself that he rather likes Elrond, but he has too many connections to too many factions for the King’s political comfort. And the part where at least half of his Household is made of former Maedhros and Maglor partisans and Kinslayers is unnerving for much of the court. At least he is excellent on diplomatic missions. 

“No, no. Not yet. We’ll arrange something within the next few days, I’m sure.” With that, Gil-galad ended the impromptu Court and swept off to dinner.

Erestor watched the scene quietly from one side of the court. A tall, slight figure, with black hair, and dark brown scholar’s robes he was easily overlooked in the shadows of the pillars. Exactly as he would prefer. 

That night at dinner Erestor gave his report to Elrond. He concluded, “I’m certain that Gil-galad perceives him as a threat to power.”

“More of a destabilizing force in court politics, I suspect.” Elrond took a sip of wine. “Where did the Steward give him rooms?”

“The top floor of the Maple Wing, overlooking the gardens. Nice rooms, but easily overlooked and fairly isolated. It would be easy to observe who visits regularly. The Steward told Glorfindel he is to attend the daily Council, starting the day after tomorrow. I believe that the Steward needs to arrange for proper clothing and nothing in stores is tall enough.” Erestor’s quiet, sly smile appeared. “He was quite distressed.” 

Elrond smiled back, Erestor is more than half spy sometimes. 

“Above the library? I’d like to meet him, but let’s let him settle in for now.” With that, they turned the conversation to Erestor’s latest research project in the library. 

Glorfindel spent the first few days exploring. The King’s Steward had quickly arranged for clothing that fit and Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief when proper fitting boots arrived. Gil-galad had ordered him to attend the daily council meeting. Why, he wasn’t sure. Even as a Lord in Gondolin he had little to say about grain harvests. Outside trade wasn’t a thing in a hidden city. And he knows absolutely nothing about fish or harbor maintenance. 

He was curious about some of the other elves that attend the meetings. Specifically, Idril and Tuor’s grandson, Elrond. Elrond has Idril’s eyes and Turgon’s hair and every time Glorfindel sees the half-elf and his shadow of a secretary he misses Gondolin. Too bad the king had seated them halfway around the room from each other. Glorfindel kept trying to go over and talk after the meetings, but was always interrupted and dragged off to lunch with someone.

Glorfindel was getting tired of lunch. All the minor lords he had eaten with had wonderful plans that involved him. So far this seemed to include expansion of trade with the dwarves, getting a bill passed in Council and marrying various family members.

He had also heard all sorts of interesting and depressing gossip. Today’s had been about Elrond. The overdressed and elaborately coiffed petty lord had leaned in and said, “And of course, you should consider who your allies at court are. You wouldn’t want to make the wrong friends.”

“Wrong friends?” Glorfindel’s first thought was that his lunch partner today was definitely a “wrong friend”.

The courtier took another swig of his wine. “Everyone knows that Elrond is a secret Feanorian. What with that little ratty shadow he has. Most of his staff were vassals of one of the brothers or another. You’d think he’d have a little more compassion for all the rest of us and not flaunt Kinslayers and murderers where we can see them. I would never hire such traitors; they might poison me.”

“Huhhhh….” Glorfindel could see the upside of poisoning this weasel of an elf. And was beginning to see why Celebrimbor has started his own settlement in Eregion. 

“Elrond would be sent packing off with Celebrimbor but Gil-galad favors his pretty face too much.”

Glorfindel mentally groaned, this lunch is giving him both stomach and head pain.

Erestor kept Elrond updated on what the misplaced elf lord was up to. “I think Glorfindel is getting tired of Court life. Tonight that little fat merchant from Harlond wrapped sweaty arms around his middle and proposed to him.” Erestor had especially enjoyed the appalled expression on Glorfindel’s face.

Another night, “Today Glorfindel tried to borrow a sword and practice with the Palace Guard. He didn’t know that they don’t keep spare swords on hand and they were too busy staring to tell him that he needs to visit the armory.”

“The minstrels keep mobbing him at odd moments to ask what it was like to die by Balrog. He’s taken to hiding in the library. He seems to like the natural history section.” 

“He tried to help the gardeners. They wouldn’t stop bowing and then the minstrels showed up there too.” 

“He went riding today. It ended with Glorfindel in the top of one of the walnut trees with Lady Nala screaming profanity up at him.” Erestor had enjoyed that one too.

“He has stopped eating dinner in the Great Hall and according to the cooks, hasn’t been requesting a dinner in his rooms.” At that statement Elrond sighed, Glorfindel certainly wasn’t having an easy time. 

“Erestor, can you make sure he gets a dinner tray?” The healer in Elrond protested the idea of Glorfindel not eating.

“From our cooks or the Palace kitchen?” 

“Which is easier?”

“Our kitchens, then he won’t have to worry about empty headed palace lingerers following the servants through the corridors and into his rooms as well.” Having had to deal with both the idiocy and occasional maliciousness of the Palace-set, Erestor could only too easily visualize bedroom-lurking stalkers as the next stupidity.


	2. Cutting off your hair is a definite cry for help.

Glorfindel was already sick of Lindon. Specifically, the Palace.

Even his attempt to visit the stables resulted in going for a long, slow, extraordinary boring ride around and around the gardens with a blond elf woman whose name escaped Glorfindel even now. The ride ended suddenly when she had slid out of her saddle and into his lap (and started to undo his leggings) trilling, “My dear Glorrrfiiiiindellll, let’s go back to my room and ride!” 

At least he is quartered close to the library. The giant rooms take up the whole of the first and second floors of his wing. He has taken to spending the evenings quietly wandering from section to section, randomly selecting things that look interesting to read. His favorite so far was, “A treatise on the beings of the Years of Trees. Volume 5: a natural history guide of Ents.” (Volumes 1 through 4 are apparently misplaced.)

That night he had been in Middle Earth for almost three weeks, and avoiding dinner for four days. Glorfindel snuck off to his rooms with another book (Classic Poetry of the Avari as translated into Sindarin). He was developing the habit of reading a book and draining several bottles of wine in his room every evening. The fuzzy blankness of drunk stupid through the night (instead of crippling loneliness) made the hangover worth it.

He unlocked his door and walked into his rooms, they smelled different. Wishing he had some sort of weapon he put the book down on the table next to the door and crept through the rooms looking for a trespasser. No elves, but a covered tray sat in the middle of his parlor table. 

Lifting the lid revealed a generous bowl of fish stew, half a loaf of sour bread and a pile of cut fruit. Arranged around the edges were crackers, butter and jam. No note.

Glorfindel’s first thought was that this was another random plot. But the food smelled wonderful. And he had been so hungry the last few days. Come to think of it, fish stew is a little pedestrian for the sycophants who keep trying to woo him. He took a little sip of the stew, it tasted wonderful. 

It only took a few minutes to completely devour the contents of the tray. He used the heel of the bread to mop up the last drabble of stew, and then curled up on the couch before the fire to read with his bottles of wine.   
Somehow he was not surprised when he found another tray the next evening, this one green salad, a chicken quarter, potatoes, more bread and a piece of fruit pie. 

Two nights later, dinner came with a note. In neat print it said, “Don’t drink so much, it’s bad for your health.” 

Glorfindel thought the memories gone forever. After death, he drifted by himself through the grey, quiet halls of Mandos and then been re-embodied to sleep under the trees of Lorien and dream until all the bad memories slipped away and soul damage healed. 

Late in the evening a storm blew in off the ocean. Glorfindel eventually got out of bed again and sat in his parlor and stared at the unlit hearth. Every time he lay down he thought he could smell burning hair. He suspiciously sniffed his pillow, blankets, nightshirt and everything else he could think of but couldn’t find the source. The thunder reminded him of the Balrog’s whip and he flinched at the light on the walls. He started to pace. The last straw was a group of drunk people singing badly, screaming and hooting as they walked down the hall.

It was a horrific and confidence destroying shock to discover the memories were lurking all along. 

Without thinking he grabbed a small knife off the sideboard. It turns out that when cut short, his thick wavy blond hair stands out around his head in a halo, with an uneven side from a cow lick. 

Despite his new, odd, hair style, Glorfindel can’t think of a reason to skip Council the next morning. He would just stay where he was, curled in a ball but he hates these rooms. And he hated being alone with his thoughts. Anywhere outside his rooms would attract the minstrels. As he sat at his usual place in the corner of the Council chambers, his chest still ached and he felt as though something heavy, like the Balrog, was standing on him.

When he saw Glorfindel, Elrond winced as he whispered, “Oh dear….” It was obvious to the healer that Glorfindel had failed to cope with something major. Given available evidence, he suspected the storm last night. He glanced to Erestor, who was looking grimmer than usual. 

Erestor saw the hair and thought that Glorfindel now looked like a somewhat depressed dandelion. Actually, a bit cute in a funny way. But the innocent blue eyes were clouded with distress and it was easy to see every whisper taking another little bleeding divot out of the elf’s soul. 

Council started. While the true, working lords at Council ignored the hair (easy to do as Glorfindel was, as usual, completely silent) the others were staring, whispering and giggling. Erestor snarled slightly. Elrond peered over just as Erestor stood, chair skidding loudly across the floor.

The meeting slid to a halt as everyone stared at the source of the noise.

The King looked up. “Secretary Erestor, do you have something to add?”

Erestor bowed, “My pardon, Your Majesty. I forgot to do something.” And as the entire room watched he grabbed his hair in one hand, his pen knife in the other, and sawed the whole mass off just above his shoulders. The courtiers, always willing to stop for a bit of theatre, watched in rapt silence as he walked over and threw his hair into the fire. Then, to the smell of burning hair, he sat quietly down again. “Thank you for your patience, Your Majesty.”

The room kept watching as he picked up his tablet and stylus again. Gil-galad cleared his throat and somehow managed to continue the meeting. 

As the meeting ended, Glorfindel stood up and ran out of the room. Elrond watched him go and turned to his Steward. “Erestor, did that have a point other than melodrama?”

Despite the serene expression and tone, Erestor was still furious, “Those small minded elves with more hair than brains, that have never done anything except gossip, couldn’t do accounts or inventory if it killed them, can’t ride a horse, and don’t know which end of a sword to hold would dare make fun of him.”

“So you decided to cut off your hair in Council as protest? Or solidarity? Or a distraction?” After being raised by Maglor and Maedhros, Elrond is familiar with dramatic gestures (Maedhros used to throw his fake hand at people who made him really angry and Maglor routinely pilloried people in song) but he suspected that Erestor and Glorfindel might now be the only two elves in the capital city with short hair. Or maybe the entire country of Lindon. Possibly Middle Earth. 

Come to think of it, Erestor has really enjoyed watching Glorfindel over the last few weeks…. 

Elrond let out a very long breath and said, “Do you want me to even the ends up for you? We can go try and even up Glorfindel’s next. How do you suppose we get it to lie flat again?” Gil-galad was going to be upset at his interference, but Elrond was worried.

Erestor said, “Do you think he would like flower hair pins?”

Glorfindel sat on the floor next to his bed and thought that he might hate the Valar. He was happy in Lorien, lost in dreams and away from pain. He curled his arms around his legs for comfort. He is so lonely here, it seems like everyone and everything he knew is gone. His stomach churned and somehow sharp glassy pains were lancing through his soul. He tried to breathe. There was an underlying sense that he is lying in little fragments like a dropped plate. The pieces grated against each other in little porcelain noises as he curled up tighter. 

Everything was gone, except maybe the idiot petty courtiers at Council. Trust only the awful parts to be the same as Gondolin…. At least they had stopped staring after Elrond’s steward did that, whatever that was. 

Someone was knocking at the hall door. He’ll ignore it. Maybe if he ignored everything long enough it would all go away. 

Instead, the door to his bedroom opened. 

Glorfindel decided to look up when a voice over his head sighed and said, “Erestor? Heat some water for me?” And Elrond sat down on the floor next to him. 

They sat in silence, Glorfindel could hear Erestor in the other room. Elrond was staring at him gently with Idril’s eyes. Glorfindel sniffed, he misses everyone and to all of Middle Earth they’ve been gone thousands of years. He started to cry and was barely aware when he was pulled into a hug and held.

He ignored the quiet conversation over his head. Curled up against Elrond’s chest is comforting, he can hear the half-elf’s heartbeat and steady breathing. Slowly some of the pain leached away, leaving underlying loneliness and fear.

When he finally looked up, there a was large mug sitting on the floor next to Elrond. Elrond handed him a handkerchief and then as Glorfindel dabbed at sore eyes, scooped the cup up one handed and handed it to him. When Glorfindel automatically took it, Elrond smoothed his too short hair back from his eyes and said, “Not enough food, not enough sleep, too much wine. Drink.”

It was some sort of healer’s tea, but it managed to taste vaguely of flowers. Thankfully, the world started to go just slightly numb. He decided to ignore everything except the shoulder he was leaning on as other hands rubbed his back and began to comb his hair. 

When he woke again, he was in his bed under the covers and felt slightly better but weirdly hollow. It was far past the dinner hour and he was hungry. There was another covered tray sitting on his parlor table. This time there was also a note that read, “Had to go. Go to bed early. Without wine. Let’s have dinner when I get back. Erestor will be checking on you.”

Dinner was good.

When he was getting ready for bed (without wine) he looked in the mirror and discovered his hair was trimmed to at least stick out evenly.


	3. Sometimes the Palace is like high school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting 3 and 4 together.... Four is so short it would be unfair otherwise!

Given how life had been since returning to Middle Earth, it was of no surprise to Glorfindel the next morning when he couldn’t find Elrond before Council. He looked around the chamber, wondering if he had moved seats when he heard Erestor quiet behind him, “The King didn’t appreciate the disturbance at the meeting yesterday and sent Elrond to the Forluin River settlement with a treaty that needs signing.” Glancing back, Erestor was seated right behind him with his usual tablet. “He should return soon.”

Glorfindel was still trying to decide if that is a just punishment, given that it was Erestor’s disturbance, when the meeting began. 

Everyone carefully avoided staring at him and there is no whispering. And behind him was the silent but comforting presence of Erestor radiating disapproval at the room, but not him. After the meeting he found a folded paper in his pocket that read, “G.G. worries about the lords with a lot of support and power and takes care to keep them from forming coalitions and alliances.” 

Glorfindel considered his arrival, housing, the seating arrangements at council and Elrond’s sudden departure with a sinking feeling of dismay. 

He was still considering the note that night late after dinner. Walking through the far end of the darkened library he heard a series of thuds and retching. Someone laughed, “The little Feanorian is without his protector again? How sad.”

Rounding the corner, Glorfindel discovered a group of the louder, rowdier courtiers standing over a lump that resolved itself into Erestor. “Stop! What are you doing?” 

“Getting just a little justice for Doriath.” Oh. Sindar from Doriath. If this is why Gil-galad is worried about courtiers with political power, he can see why. He took a deep breath, preparing to wade into the fight.

“The King won’t mind as long as we don’t actually kill the Feanorian.” The speaker turned to land another kick on the prone elf and went down with a crash as Erestor grabbed his foot. Erestor punched him solidly in the face and then twisted around to knock the next down, kicking with enough force that Glorfindel heard a knee snap. A third was kicked very sharply between the legs.

That one gurgled breathlessly as Erestor grabbed a wrist and hauled him sideways into his fellows. They tried to catch the elf out of instinct and Erestor rolled to his feet, darted around his assailants, grabbed Glorfindel’s wrist and ran deeper into the library. 

There was shouting and thumping of feet behind them as Erestor pulled them around a cubby of shelves and knelt down by a window. In that light, Glorfindel could see blood running down Erestor’s face. A slight smile and a pair of glittering eyes made the sedate secretary look completely feral. He whispered, “It is a bother when Gil-galad sends Elrond away.”

A bother? 

Glorfindel was left with more questions than answers with that statement. But as he tried to decide which to ask first, Erestor had pulled up his robes, revealing knives in sheaths tied to his calves. He pulled one and cut off a length of curtain, dropping the dark fabric over Glorfindel’s head. “Like sunflowers in a snowbank… Your hair practically glows in the dark.”

He beckoned, and putting the knife away, began to crawl in commendable silence around another set of rows. “Glorfindel, can you help me push on these shelves?”

“Uh, okay?” The shelves are bolted to the floor and reach almost to the vaulted ceiling, why push on them?

Teeth were visible in that smile. “I don’t weigh enough for it to work, but both of us together will.”

The hunting party was getting closer, so they stood and shoved. Glorfindel watched in astonishment as the shelf tipped slowly over, snapping the bolts before catching the next one in line and sending it down with a crash. Before it landed entirely, it caught two more shelves that also began to tip. Their pursuers shouted in alarm. 

Erestor dragged Glorfindel to the window, opened it and climbed into a tree outside. Glorfindel followed him, curtain still over hair, down the tree, around the edge of the Palace, across the gardens and to the Holly Wing. From the Palace gardens they could still faintly hear the crash of collapsing shelving and the screams of elves being hit by books. They walked up the back stairs and Glorfindel realized that he is standing in Elrond’s House. Stunned by their escape, and the fact that he hadn’t expected to find assault and battery in the Palace, he followed Erestor silently down the hall.

Erestor unlocked a door halfway down the hall and shoved Glorfindel into a small sitting room and toward a couch. “My rooms, if anyone asks we’ve been here all evening playing chess.”

Glorfindel blurted out the thought he’s had ever since climbing out the window, “You destroyed the library!”

“Oh, that was Personal Collections. The idiots self-publish bad poetry and self-aggrandizing autobiographies and put it there to feel special. It’s a terrible waste of paper and space but it keeps some of the more useless courtiers occupied.” Erestor shook his head, “An infinity to learn new things and accomplish wonders and they spend it in small talk and truly miserable poetry.”

The gesture drew Glorfindel’s attention to the blood still slowly dripping out of Erestor’s hairline. Erestor pushed at his short hair peevishly, “Stupid fools hit me with a chair.”

On instinct, Glorfindel reached toward the injury. As he touched it his fingers tingled warmly. Erestor froze, startled. The cut slowly closed itself up until there was unmarred skin in its place. The tingle vanished and Glorfindel stared dizzily at his bloody hand. Eyes wide, Erestor prodded carefully at his scalp. “You healed me? You have a talent for healing?”

“I do? No I don’t. Where’d the cut go?” Glorfindel was feeling kind of limp. He swayed and Erestor grabbed him and flattened him onto the couch.

Erestor was certain that was an actual healing. And Glorfindel looked pale and drained. After following Elrond all this time he’s picked up a few tricks: step one is always feed the healer. It is too late for the kitchens but he rummaged through his cupboard until he found fruit, crackers, cookies and a half a jar of honey. Then, he propped Glorfindel up on pillows and handed him a spoon and the open jar. 

Glorfindel stared into the honey as if he’d never seen it before. 

Erestor growled, “Glorfindel, you need sugar. Eat the honey.” Slowly Glorfindel dipped the spoon and then licked it. As Erestor glared, Glorfindel ate the honey and all of the snacks. Then, curled up on the couch and slipped off into sleep, snoring very quietly. 

Erestor stifled a chuckle, he’s never met an elf who snores and this one is adorable. Carefully, he draped the quilt from the back of the couch over the sleeping elf lord and tucked him in. Then, on a whim, leaned over and kissed the tip of the ear exposed over the quilt. Smiling, he washed up and went to bed. He has a whole list of things to do tomorrow to take care of Elrond’s House in his absence. 

He woke up stiff, and to the sound of Glorfindel crashing around his living room. He hadn’t realized cupboards were so loud. A quick inspection of himself revealed bruises everywhere, but the cut on his forehead was still gone.


	4. Epilogue – Because Elrond has to find out about the library incident

Elrond had been gone for over a week when he rode back up to the Palace with his escort of guards. He worried about the situation with Glorfindel throughout the trip and he always hated to leave Erestor behind. Something always seemed to happen in his absence…. Most of all, he wished that Gil-galad would just realize that he isn’t trying to consolidate power and give him a break already. 

He handed the trade agreement over to Gil-galad in his office. Gil-galad looked it over perfunctorily and said, “I am considering sending you to Celebrimbor again. I have been hearing disturbing rumors. I’d like a little more information on the situation.” Gil-galad actually sounded a little apologetic for once. 

“I would like to check in with my Household before I can give you an estimate on leaving.” Elrond bowed and turned to walk out.

“By the way, in your absence there was an incident.” Elrond stopped with a feeling of slow-creeping dread. Last time he was sent off like this Erestor had been beaten half to death and somehow the Palace Laundry had caught fire. The time before that was the incident with the turkeys.

“An incident.” Elrond’s stomach was developing butterflies.

“The day after you departed the Personal Collections section of the library had an unexplained shelving collapse. A group of the Doriath Sindar were injured, but none can give me an adequate explanation how bolted shelves simply tipped over and crushed them.” Gil-galad sounded very dry.

“I see.” The butterflies were getting bigger.

“That was all.” Gil-galad looked back at his desk. And then said dismissively, “And please tell Glorfindel that he will need to move back to his quarters.”

That killed the butterflies. Elrond growled, out of patience with the games. “Stop playing with Glorfindel, it is cruel. He wants nothing of Court and your games any more than anyone else with sense does.”

Gil-galad started laughing tiredly. Elrond glared. Gil-galad laughed harder.

The laughter tapered off into a sigh. “He doesn’t have secondary motives, hates Court and was sent back here by Manwe. Elrond, I think war is coming again.”

Elrond had nothing to add, he has been worried about Annatar for centuries and it doesn’t take the Sight to see war in the future.

The King straightened up. “Give me an estimate tonight on when you can leave. I will have the paperwork drawn up formally declaring you my Herald. That will give you enough political clout with Celebrimbor’s courtiers to stave off trouble.” He paused, and then said, “And take good care of Glorfindel, we’re going to need him.”

Elrond left the office a little dizzy with the sudden tone shifts. He decided to go check in with his House and then find Glorfindel.

It had taken moving into Elrond’s House for Glorfindel to discover that instead of the usual mélange of family, hangers-on, tailors, musicians, greater and lesser cooks, gardeners, and a few guards that instead it was a rather different and carefully organized mix. There was a large contingent of scholars, a company sized group of soldiers and an efficient support team. And exactly ONE young minstrel named Lindir, who seemed to happily bounce through the wing playing music for all the different groups. (And NOT asking about the Balrog.) 

And Erestor is the Steward keeping the whole House running smoothly, not a secretary. 

The morning after the library incident he had expected to be banished back to his rooms at the other end of the Palace but had instead been dragged off to a dining hall in the Holly Wing for breakfast. After eating, Erestor had deposited him with Elrond’s guards for morning training. The guards had returned him to Erestor after lunch, and he had spent an interesting afternoon portaging paperwork back and forth across the Palace and answering questions about troop movements, tactics and training every time he was handed another bundle of paper by Erestor. 

Glorfindel discovered he loved hearing Erestor’s incredibly sarcastic and unflattering commentary on everything he saw at Court.

That night, he discovered that his meager possessions and a bed had been added to the corner of Erestor’s living room and ended up curled on the couch crying for happiness. (Erestor had fed him a cookie and then sat in silence on the couch next to him.)

The first place Elrond visited after his audience was Erestor, in his offices. He walked in to discover an additional desk and Glorfindel. The Balrog slayer was filling out paperwork with a peaceful smile that more matched the expressions Elrond expected his face to wear, and a cup of tea at his elbow. 

As he walked in both elves looked up, “Lord Elrond, how was the Forluin settlement?” Unlike his last return from a trip, Erestor looked undamaged. 

“Fine but a little surprised to get the trade agreement so early.” Elrond turned to Glorfindel and looked narrowly at the elf, “Did you get so bored with Court life that you have taken up a traveling scribe’s duties?” 

Glorfindel had willfully ignored the idea that his tenure here was most likely temporary. Erestor had never said anything about the future and he had carefully never asked.

Glorfindel’s mouth opened and shut and he looked suddenly frightened. Erestor said very firmly, “Glorfindel is joining the House. I would recommend him for Captain of the Guard. I no longer have the luxury of supervising training every day.” 

Glorfindel sat frozen, the whites of his eyes were visible all the way around. Elrond turned to him stifling a smile, “I see. Glorfindel, are you my new Captain of the Guard?”

“Um, yes?” The response was tentative in the extreme. Elrond abruptly felt very sorry for teasing Glorfindel, who is pale and pinned under Elrond’s gaze as though he expects to be ejected from the Palace. Unable to bear the sheer lonely terror in the expression he walked over, hauled Glorfindel bodily to his feet and wrapped him in a tight hug, rumpling the short hair.

“Good!” Releasing the bewildered elf, he turned to Erestor. “Erestor, I have been talking to the King, we’re leaving for Eregion as soon as possible. We need to take Glorfindel to the weapon smiths in town and he will need to be outfitted for court properly before we leave.”

Erestor pulled a pouch and a sheet of paper out of his desk. “I have a list and drawn funds sufficient for formal clothing, his gear, weapons and a horse. Will he need anything else?” 

“I don’t think so but we can always add to the list. Shall we?” Before Glorfindel has completely processed that he has been adopted, Erestor and Elrond are walking out the door without him. 

Erestor walked back and stared sternly at him before rolling up his shopping list and making the reach to tap Glorfindel on top of the head with the paper. “We are going shopping. Come on.”


End file.
